Cold Crush Gate [2/?]
Title: Cold Crush Gate [2/?]
Author: ccgensou
Genre: Angst/sap/romance
Rating: PG-13
Band: Gazette
Pairing: Reita/Ruki
Summary: Reita's cold, unloving facade makes Ruki break up with him, but it seems like no one really wants it to end. So is there any way to break through Reita's shell caused by fear to show his real feelings, and that way mend their broken relationship?
Comment: Writing chapter two, I realised how much I still have to learn. But ah, I tried, so I hope I won't disappoint anyone with this. Oh, and again, sorry for taking so long with chapters, but it can't be helped. And like said, I'm not 100% sure that this will be finished, but I'll try my best, as always. I'd really want feedback for this (and constructive criticism is always welcome), so please comment?
~
Earlier chapters:
Prologue
Chapter 1 - Regret
~
Illustration drawn by ccgensou, aka. me. © on the art belongs to me.
Thank you for respecting this, please?
~
Chapter 2 - Delete
There was a distant sound of a guitar.
Ruki swallowed, as if trying to choke back any trace of misery that had nestled in his heart, mind and body, and he stood there, in the empty dressing room, packing down the necessary things without really paying attention. His level of concentration was low, so low, because he couldn’t stop thinking, yet at the same time, it was as if all that he had become was a hollow body, a shell without anything behind. At the back of his mind, he listened to the melody of the guitar, and strangely, in his absent-minded condition, he knew that if the guitar player would play one single note wrong, he would immediately notice, yet be too faraway to be able to register.
The fresh memories were on mute repeat in his numb mind, and he knew that there was nothing that would ever let him forget, no matter the extent of his wishes, his strong want for it all to be one long, cruel dream.
After that revealing moment with Reita, that second in time taking place in a toilet cubicle in the farthest corner of a men’s room, when everything had broke down to fragments of life, to small signs of anything, he had remained silent the rest of the time, quietly waiting. And that for a rescue that so suddenly no longer felt like a rescue, but a punishment. But he had been able to see the relieved look on Reita’s face, the bitter smile, seen the way he ignored him, and heard the deep sigh, heard the genuine thank you that he had given their so-called saviour.
And it hurt.
Hurt so much that in his panic to break down pathetically once again, he had excused himself over and over, told them that he felt nauseous and couldn’t stay, not even to only watch. In a way, he told himself, he did not tell something that wasn’t true, because the tight knot in his chest pained him, made it difficult to breathe in the presence of Reita, made him nauseous on a completely different level than what he claimed.
Made him want to die.
There was a soft, metallic click - the sound of the door handle being pressed down, and Ruki’s hands froze over the small bag, his eyes snapping up to the big mirror in front of him, watching the reflection of the door in the half-darkness only lit up by the warm lights placed over the mirrors. And he stared numbly, the perplexed fear making a slow appearance in his mind as it silently opened, giving sight to the familiar figure of Reita.
There was a moment of mutual silence when their eyes met with the help of the mirror, and Ruki thought that Reita looked more beautiful than ever, becoming more stunning for every time his eyes settled on him, looking more unreachable for every second that passed. As if he was slowly becoming the faraway dream that Ruki could only wish for. But he didn’t run away - didn’t try to escape from the situation. He only stood there, staring, waiting for Reita to do anything, anything at all that would set the colour of the painting, the mood to the theme, the light to a stage. To decide how they were supposed to act around each other this time, because Ruki never knew how to be anymore, and he was tired, so tired of the games, yet he was too afraid not to play along with Reita’s rules.
Afraid of what he could lose.
For a moment, Reita seemed to want to turn around, to leave because of him, to not want to be in his presence, as if he had enough. But In the end, he slipped softly, gently inside and left the door hanging open to let in more revealing light, and Ruki, realising shamefully how much he had stared, turned down his gaze to his hands resting over the bag.
He didn’t dare to say anything, didn’t dare to move, only stood there as if frozen to the floor as he saw in the corner of his eye how Reita moved over to the mirrors to his left. It seemed like Reita was going to pretend that he wasn’t there at all, not acknowledging him being there in any other way. Ruki bit his lower lip nervously and glanced to his left, waiting patiently for something that would never come. He didn’t even know what, only that he needed it.
He had to suppress a sharp intake of breath when his eyes landed on the bandages neatly covering the injured hand of the taller blonde, because he felt guilty, felt almost as if he had hurt Reita, as if he had been the crime, the wrong act that had hurt the one he loved.
And he realised that he had. That it was the truth. He had hurt the one he used to not even be able to dream about hurting, and he had done it bad. The impact of the realisation was agonizing, making him have to take a deep breath to try to calm down somewhat as he watched Reita take what he was there to get and turn to leave.
Just as Reita was about to step out through the door, Ruki looked up, suddenly wanting to know where they’d stand from now on, and before he could change his mind or let the opportunity pass, he took another deep breath. “Wait”, he said, his voice quiet but unintentionally rougher than he had thought, and he coughed to clear his throat as he watched Reita halt, seemingly an act of pure shock, and turn around to look at Ruki’s back. Reita didn’t bother to look into the mirror - didn’t bother to seek eye contact, but Ruki made no effort to turn around as he watched the reflection. When he suddenly had the other man’s attention, it all felt so stupid and so foolish, so unimportant. In his mind, he repeated the words he wanted to say, to ask, over and over again, trying to make himself actually say it, but it was so difficult. But in the end, he forced himself to do it, had to force himself because all those small things, those everyday questions and actions, they had become so unfamiliar on his tongue.
“Are you coming home tonight?”, he asked softly, watching Reita quietly as the taller blonde shifted and looked down at his feet only to quickly look up again, in a manner that clearly told Ruki that he didn’t know how to act, either, and even less what to say, what to respond.
“I’m going to stop by later”, he answered at last, voice emptied of any real feelings to be conveyed. Before Ruki could let any hope to be born in his heart, however, Reita continued, “To pick up the most necessary stuff. I’m moving back to my own apartment.”
“Oh.“ Ruki’s heart fell, and he blinked, turning his gaze down to the bag that he had been throwing stuff in just a mere moment ago, feeling a strange sort of resentment for himself build inside him as he nodded to the tabletop. “Okay”, he breathed out, while trying to convince himself that he was not disappointed, because it wasn’t as if he had expected anything else, was it? But he couldn’t help the nagging voice inside his own mind, telling him that he had wanted Reita to answer something else, something that would tell him that he still wanted them to be.
But he hadn’t realised that until he didn’t get what he wanted to hear. He was something resembling of a child, he mused, to be like that, to act like that, to expect things to be like that.
And they stayed silent, neither of them making a move to leave or act, neither of them caring enough about easing the pain of being in each other’s presence. Neither of them saying goodbye. And Ruki wondered, in the back of his aching mind and heart, what Reita wanted, what he was thinking about, why he didn’t make a run for it. He’d offer a penny for his thoughts, weren’t it for the fact that he knew he’d not get the truth.
He’d even offer a place in his heart, weren’t it because he already had given it.
“Are you feeling any better?”, Reita asked suddenly, voice strangely gentle, a simple concerned tint colouring the question.
Ruki’s head snapped up, however, unsure if he had heard correctly - if Reita, his dearest Reita, had actually bothered to ask how he felt, or even more so, if he had truly seemed genuinely concerned. “What?” he finally managed to blurt out questioningly, and feeling very idiotic while doing so.
“Still nauseous?” the explanative answer was, and this time, this time Reita looked into the mirror hesitantly and briefly met Ruki’s wide, inquisitive eyes, before his gaze darted off, settling on a spot on the faraway wall. But Ruki wasn’t going to be fooled by Reita’s shy manner, for he knew that indifferent face well enough. He couldn’t bring himself into believing that he really cared.
“Yes”, Ruki replied simply, and he heard painfully well how final his answer sounded. He wanted to keep Reita close, but he knew he was losing his grip of reality, and with it losing grip of Reita. Losing everything.
He didn’t say anything more, and nor did the taller blonde, making them fall into silence once again. Ruki watched his beloved carefully, wishing, wishing that there was some way to take everything that was left between them and somehow make it work. Because he was stubborn, he knew it, but he refused to believe that he meant absolutely nothing, refused to believe that he was just another fuck that only lasted a bit longer because they were in the same band.
He wanted to believe in that short moment in time when Reita had shown his vulnerable side.
And yet, even though he knew that Reita probably hoped for him to say something else, to elaborate his short answer, to give him a hook in the conversation to hold onto so he could keep it going, Ruki did not say another word. He was an idiot. A coward.
But it was just so difficult. There was no safe ground to stand on anymore. There were no strong, comforting arms that could embrace him and tell him that everything was going to be alright.
And so, he felt a large lump in his throat and the pressure grow in his chest as he watched Reita look down, nodding lightly. For he knew what was next - could read his former boyfriends manner well enough to know that he was leaving. This was why he, too, turned down his gaze, but more like a defeated dog than with Reita‘s poise. Although Ruki’s actions were anything but final, for when he heard the footsteps of departure, his head snapped up, and he took a sharp breath as the reality sank in.
“Rei -”, he began desperately, and spun around on his feet, but the name was left further unsaid as the door clicked close, leaving him alone in the room. “Oh God”, he breathed out chokingly, and his knees bent underneath him, making him fall down on the floor in a pathetic way only suitable for someone as pathetic as him. Because that was how he felt.
Pathetic and vulnerable.
A sick child.
~
He closed his eyes and sighed deeply.
The afternoon sun washed over him from the kitchen window, and he sat silently, breathing in the aroma of coffee as the minutes would slowly pass without any break. He was waiting - he knew it, but he would never admit it to himself. The time would pass, and he would patiently wait for the sound of a key turning in the keyhole, wait for the moment when the man he loved would step in to the apartment.
Appreciating the warmth of the sun for warming up his skin as if to somehow make up for the chill in his bones, he slowly opened his eyes, tiredly, and let his eyes lazily wander around the familiar kitchen. He saw the counter, by which he had been watching Reita sometimes try and fail to cook something edible. He gave notice to the coffee maker, over which Reita had slaved when they had sometimes stayed up all night working on music to the utter dislike of people living in the same apartment building. And he sighed when he looked down at the coffee cup he was nursing between his hands. The one that Reita had given him on the Valentine’s day on which they had got together. The cup which said, “I‘ll just pretend that you love me as much as I love you.”
He shivered. How much of their relationship had been pretend when it all came down to it? It could not have been love, it could not, because even though Reita had been there with him, he had not truly been there, in the heart. Not there to hold him all those times when he had wondered if their relationship meant anything, not there to reassure him when he had doubts, not there to love him. It had been agonizing to doubt Reita all the time, to wonder what he thought about when they were silent, to wonder where he was when he was not with him. To wonder who he thought about when they were making love.
Silently letting his thumb run along the edge of the coffee cup, he noticed that he was shaking.
“Oh, fuck it”, he hissed, gripping the coffee cup firmly with his trembling hands and raised it to his lips, sipping the warm liquid carefully. Then he closed his eyes for a moment once again, breathing deeply but not being able to chase away the nervousness that lingered in his mind at the thought of seeing Reita there. He was not comfortable waiting, at all. All the times Reita had made him wait in the past could in no way have prepared enough for this kind of a prolonged agony. And there was no excuse, nothing that would justify the hurt feelings he harboured, for he knew, well enough, that it was his own fault that he was feeling like that, his own fault that Reita no longer was his. If only things would have been different.
If only he would have been different, then perhaps Reita would have loved him back.
Just as he thought that, the phone started ringing - the loud, impatient sound startling him back to existence rudely. Letting out a shaking breath, he then swallowed heavily. While telling himself that it was only the phone, he turned slightly, stiffly in his chair, glancing apprehensively in the direction of the living room, where he knew the phone lay forgotten on the couch. For a couple of seconds, he did nothing, but then he slowly turned back to his coffee cup, and while raising the cup to his lips once again, the answering machine took up the case.
“Hi! You’ve reached Ruki and Reita. We’re not in right now, or we’re unable to answer the phone, so please leave a message and your phone number after the beep, and… we’ll get back to you as soon as we can! Okay? Thanks!”
There was the sound of the two-seconds-long beep, and then, there was silence. Ruki listened intently, but no one made a sound to let know who it was on the other line of the phone. He stared down at the black coffee, his index finger tapping gently against the smooth surface of the cup - now the only sign outwards of his impatient nervousness.
Then, finally, “You really need to change that message, Ru-chan… Ruki.” Reita’s low, calm voice, ever so slightly distorted by the phone, reached Ruki’s ears like a piercing arrow, and his tapping ceased as his grip around the cup tightened while listening to the familiar voice continuing to speak. “It’s not like I live there anymore, if you hadn’t noticed. Delete it whenever you‘ve got the time to, please. Anyway, I’m on my way right now… Just thought I’d tell you. And… the others told me to say hi. Okay. Well, I better hang up now, Kai is mouthing that his cell doesn’t have much money left. So yeah. Okay. See you in a while, then. Bye.”
The click announcing that he had hung up could be heard, and resounded in Ruki’s mind, over and over. And Reita’s words, carried with cruel butterfly wings, gently accompanied the things to brood over, lightly whispering, repeating in his head. Truth was that he was scared. Taking the teaspoon and quietly, absent-mindedly stirring the cooling off coffee, he sighed deeply to try to rid himself the drowning misery, but it seemed that no matter what he did, no matter how much he tried to distract himself, it all but disappeared.
Delete it.
He repeated the words to himself, even opened his mouth slightly, half-heartedly mouthing the words in the silence. How could he delete something like that? It was a memory of their life together, it was a piece of a broken puzzle that he had slowly made undone. It was them. Him and Reita, seemingly so in love with each other. Them.
Delete it whenever you’ve got the time to, please.
And he wished he could say that he would never have the time to, but he knew that he had already had all the time in the world. But he felt as if deleting the message he and Reita had recorded back then, would be like deleting something valuable. Like a part of a last trace belonging to a memory of a day of bliss and shy, promising summer day kisses.
He told himself that they hadn’t even said their goodbyes yet, that the ending lingered in the air, left unfinished. And he told himself, tried to convince himself, that it was an unwanted goodbye by not only him, but Reita, too. Yet when he stood up, stumbling slightly while doing so, to get a fresh cup of coffee, he was left with an empty feeling in his heart, for he knew he was only daydreaming about impossible things.
And then the minutes started to slowly creep by as he sat in silence, sipping coffee, breathing shallowly, and slowly, oh so slowly, slipping back into the haunting memories that were rimmed with forgetfulness - all those signs that he had seen but never acknowledged, witnessed but refused to understand. The time moved by, and Ruki did not move from his kitchen chair, where he sat, waiting for Reita to come back, waiting for it to start to get it over with.
But someone seemed to require a lot of time to decide whether it was time or not, because it took an additional thirty minutes before a faint knock startled Ruki out of this thoughts, a sound soon followed by another as a key was inserted in the keyhole, making it clear that the knock had only been like a warning to say that he was there now.
He was there to say goodbye.
Ruki remained seated, eyes fixed at an invisible spot in midair, as he listened to the person he very well knew was Reita. Heard how he closed the door behind him, heard how he took off his shoes, heard how he walked to the kitchen door and heard how he stopped, standing still for a long moment before he simply did not say a word. Heard how he avoided him. Or perhaps he was being unfair, perhaps he was the one avoiding Reita, because he did not trust his legs to carry him enough to walk out and greet him, didn’t trust his voice to last. Perhaps he was the source of the glitch between them that had been the cause of Reita’s cold love. Because only to be in Reita’s presence made him weak, and it had not changed one bit since the end of their unstable relationship.
He felt sick, as he sat there, listening as the one he cared so much about was walking around in the apartment, trying to find the things that were the most necessary for living. Blinking slowly, he let his gaze fall down upon the cup again, watching absent-mindedly as he started to twist and turn the cup between his hands. He wanted to turn around in his chair and look out into the living room, he wanted to say something, he wanted to touch him, but he could do absolutely nothing, as if trapped in his own fear of what might happen.
Or how Reita would react.
So he waited, once again, this time for Reita to do something, just a little something to acknowledge his presence or to greet him. To show him that he was not invisible to this man, because Ruki felt as if he was, felt as if unimportant was his new first name. It had been so before, it was so then, and it would always be humiliating for him to constantly be the one to hope for a change, was so wrong of him to do so. But he couldn’t stop hoping, wouldn’t stop.
And after what seemed like seven eternities lined up neatly next to each other to make Ruki fade away to a wreck, the apartment fell completely silent. He blinked slowly, numbly, and then heaved a sigh, anticipating what was to come.
But he was surprised as he saw, in the corner of his eye, how Reita, his beautiful, perfect Reita walked hesitantly into the kitchen and, after standing for a moment, sat down quietly in the chair opposite of him. Ruki hesitantly looked up, and their eyes met immediately, drawn to each other in a way that he used to think was so meaningful, so right. But that now only made him afraid, and that was so strange, because he realised how much this beautiful presence frightened him, how he had became so cautious around him.
He felt like crying, and that made him feel ashamed, so very, very ashamed, but it hurt to look at him, it hurt so much. He felt like a little boy opening his eyes for the first time to the most beautiful view in the world, and he never wanted to look away, wanted to forever linger in that moment. Because the sun was unmercifully playing in Reita’s blonde hair, creating a cruelly breathtaking sight that he wanted to gaze upon forever.
But reality was even more painful.
Because after a moment of silence, a small envelope was placed in front of Ruki. A simple, white envelope. And Reita left. Without a single word, he left.
It didn’t matter, he told himself. It did not matter that Reita hated him so much. And so he refused to let any thoughts invade his mind as he, with hands trembling so much it almost became an impossible task, opened the envelope and, after taking a deep breath, looked inside.
A key.
His key. The spare key he had given Reita. The key to what for a while had been their apartment. He stared intently at it, as if trying to will it to disappear, to become only a fragment of his imagination. But it didn’t go away. It stood out, heartless metallic grey against pale, cream white. Taking a shaking breath, he let it slip down on the table, and that was when he noticed it.
A small piece of paper in the envelope that he immediately fought to get out with shaking hands. He almost didn’t dare to read, almost wanted to throw it all in the trash to never know, because nothing whatsoever told him that it was going anywhere else than down, down, down.
But he read the one single word written with black ink glaring up at him from the cream white paper. He stared. Did not want to believe what was obviously so real. And everything around him went spinning, his desperate tears could not be held back, the everything, the existence, the world, the moment, the… It all fell. It all came down to that one, written word.
‘Goodbye.’
[Previous] · [Next]
Author: ccgensou
Genre: Angst/sap/romance
Rating: PG-13
Band: Gazette
Pairing: Reita/Ruki
Summary: Reita's cold, unloving facade makes Ruki break up with him, but it seems like no one really wants it to end. So is there any way to break through Reita's shell caused by fear to show his real feelings, and that way mend their broken relationship?
Comment: Writing chapter two, I realised how much I still have to learn. But ah, I tried, so I hope I won't disappoint anyone with this. Oh, and again, sorry for taking so long with chapters, but it can't be helped. And like said, I'm not 100% sure that this will be finished, but I'll try my best, as always. I'd really want feedback for this (and constructive criticism is always welcome), so please comment?
~
Earlier chapters:
Prologue
Chapter 1 - Regret
~
Illustration drawn by ccgensou, aka. me. © on the art belongs to me.
Thank you for respecting this, please?
~
Chapter 2 - Delete
There was a distant sound of a guitar.
Ruki swallowed, as if trying to choke back any trace of misery that had nestled in his heart, mind and body, and he stood there, in the empty dressing room, packing down the necessary things without really paying attention. His level of concentration was low, so low, because he couldn’t stop thinking, yet at the same time, it was as if all that he had become was a hollow body, a shell without anything behind. At the back of his mind, he listened to the melody of the guitar, and strangely, in his absent-minded condition, he knew that if the guitar player would play one single note wrong, he would immediately notice, yet be too faraway to be able to register.
The fresh memories were on mute repeat in his numb mind, and he knew that there was nothing that would ever let him forget, no matter the extent of his wishes, his strong want for it all to be one long, cruel dream.
After that revealing moment with Reita, that second in time taking place in a toilet cubicle in the farthest corner of a men’s room, when everything had broke down to fragments of life, to small signs of anything, he had remained silent the rest of the time, quietly waiting. And that for a rescue that so suddenly no longer felt like a rescue, but a punishment. But he had been able to see the relieved look on Reita’s face, the bitter smile, seen the way he ignored him, and heard the deep sigh, heard the genuine thank you that he had given their so-called saviour.
And it hurt.
Hurt so much that in his panic to break down pathetically once again, he had excused himself over and over, told them that he felt nauseous and couldn’t stay, not even to only watch. In a way, he told himself, he did not tell something that wasn’t true, because the tight knot in his chest pained him, made it difficult to breathe in the presence of Reita, made him nauseous on a completely different level than what he claimed.
Made him want to die.
There was a soft, metallic click - the sound of the door handle being pressed down, and Ruki’s hands froze over the small bag, his eyes snapping up to the big mirror in front of him, watching the reflection of the door in the half-darkness only lit up by the warm lights placed over the mirrors. And he stared numbly, the perplexed fear making a slow appearance in his mind as it silently opened, giving sight to the familiar figure of Reita.
There was a moment of mutual silence when their eyes met with the help of the mirror, and Ruki thought that Reita looked more beautiful than ever, becoming more stunning for every time his eyes settled on him, looking more unreachable for every second that passed. As if he was slowly becoming the faraway dream that Ruki could only wish for. But he didn’t run away - didn’t try to escape from the situation. He only stood there, staring, waiting for Reita to do anything, anything at all that would set the colour of the painting, the mood to the theme, the light to a stage. To decide how they were supposed to act around each other this time, because Ruki never knew how to be anymore, and he was tired, so tired of the games, yet he was too afraid not to play along with Reita’s rules.
Afraid of what he could lose.
For a moment, Reita seemed to want to turn around, to leave because of him, to not want to be in his presence, as if he had enough. But In the end, he slipped softly, gently inside and left the door hanging open to let in more revealing light, and Ruki, realising shamefully how much he had stared, turned down his gaze to his hands resting over the bag.
He didn’t dare to say anything, didn’t dare to move, only stood there as if frozen to the floor as he saw in the corner of his eye how Reita moved over to the mirrors to his left. It seemed like Reita was going to pretend that he wasn’t there at all, not acknowledging him being there in any other way. Ruki bit his lower lip nervously and glanced to his left, waiting patiently for something that would never come. He didn’t even know what, only that he needed it.
He had to suppress a sharp intake of breath when his eyes landed on the bandages neatly covering the injured hand of the taller blonde, because he felt guilty, felt almost as if he had hurt Reita, as if he had been the crime, the wrong act that had hurt the one he loved.
And he realised that he had. That it was the truth. He had hurt the one he used to not even be able to dream about hurting, and he had done it bad. The impact of the realisation was agonizing, making him have to take a deep breath to try to calm down somewhat as he watched Reita take what he was there to get and turn to leave.
Just as Reita was about to step out through the door, Ruki looked up, suddenly wanting to know where they’d stand from now on, and before he could change his mind or let the opportunity pass, he took another deep breath. “Wait”, he said, his voice quiet but unintentionally rougher than he had thought, and he coughed to clear his throat as he watched Reita halt, seemingly an act of pure shock, and turn around to look at Ruki’s back. Reita didn’t bother to look into the mirror - didn’t bother to seek eye contact, but Ruki made no effort to turn around as he watched the reflection. When he suddenly had the other man’s attention, it all felt so stupid and so foolish, so unimportant. In his mind, he repeated the words he wanted to say, to ask, over and over again, trying to make himself actually say it, but it was so difficult. But in the end, he forced himself to do it, had to force himself because all those small things, those everyday questions and actions, they had become so unfamiliar on his tongue.
“Are you coming home tonight?”, he asked softly, watching Reita quietly as the taller blonde shifted and looked down at his feet only to quickly look up again, in a manner that clearly told Ruki that he didn’t know how to act, either, and even less what to say, what to respond.
“I’m going to stop by later”, he answered at last, voice emptied of any real feelings to be conveyed. Before Ruki could let any hope to be born in his heart, however, Reita continued, “To pick up the most necessary stuff. I’m moving back to my own apartment.”
“Oh.“ Ruki’s heart fell, and he blinked, turning his gaze down to the bag that he had been throwing stuff in just a mere moment ago, feeling a strange sort of resentment for himself build inside him as he nodded to the tabletop. “Okay”, he breathed out, while trying to convince himself that he was not disappointed, because it wasn’t as if he had expected anything else, was it? But he couldn’t help the nagging voice inside his own mind, telling him that he had wanted Reita to answer something else, something that would tell him that he still wanted them to be.
But he hadn’t realised that until he didn’t get what he wanted to hear. He was something resembling of a child, he mused, to be like that, to act like that, to expect things to be like that.
And they stayed silent, neither of them making a move to leave or act, neither of them caring enough about easing the pain of being in each other’s presence. Neither of them saying goodbye. And Ruki wondered, in the back of his aching mind and heart, what Reita wanted, what he was thinking about, why he didn’t make a run for it. He’d offer a penny for his thoughts, weren’t it for the fact that he knew he’d not get the truth.
He’d even offer a place in his heart, weren’t it because he already had given it.
“Are you feeling any better?”, Reita asked suddenly, voice strangely gentle, a simple concerned tint colouring the question.
Ruki’s head snapped up, however, unsure if he had heard correctly - if Reita, his dearest Reita, had actually bothered to ask how he felt, or even more so, if he had truly seemed genuinely concerned. “What?” he finally managed to blurt out questioningly, and feeling very idiotic while doing so.
“Still nauseous?” the explanative answer was, and this time, this time Reita looked into the mirror hesitantly and briefly met Ruki’s wide, inquisitive eyes, before his gaze darted off, settling on a spot on the faraway wall. But Ruki wasn’t going to be fooled by Reita’s shy manner, for he knew that indifferent face well enough. He couldn’t bring himself into believing that he really cared.
“Yes”, Ruki replied simply, and he heard painfully well how final his answer sounded. He wanted to keep Reita close, but he knew he was losing his grip of reality, and with it losing grip of Reita. Losing everything.
He didn’t say anything more, and nor did the taller blonde, making them fall into silence once again. Ruki watched his beloved carefully, wishing, wishing that there was some way to take everything that was left between them and somehow make it work. Because he was stubborn, he knew it, but he refused to believe that he meant absolutely nothing, refused to believe that he was just another fuck that only lasted a bit longer because they were in the same band.
He wanted to believe in that short moment in time when Reita had shown his vulnerable side.
And yet, even though he knew that Reita probably hoped for him to say something else, to elaborate his short answer, to give him a hook in the conversation to hold onto so he could keep it going, Ruki did not say another word. He was an idiot. A coward.
But it was just so difficult. There was no safe ground to stand on anymore. There were no strong, comforting arms that could embrace him and tell him that everything was going to be alright.
And so, he felt a large lump in his throat and the pressure grow in his chest as he watched Reita look down, nodding lightly. For he knew what was next - could read his former boyfriends manner well enough to know that he was leaving. This was why he, too, turned down his gaze, but more like a defeated dog than with Reita‘s poise. Although Ruki’s actions were anything but final, for when he heard the footsteps of departure, his head snapped up, and he took a sharp breath as the reality sank in.
“Rei -”, he began desperately, and spun around on his feet, but the name was left further unsaid as the door clicked close, leaving him alone in the room. “Oh God”, he breathed out chokingly, and his knees bent underneath him, making him fall down on the floor in a pathetic way only suitable for someone as pathetic as him. Because that was how he felt.
Pathetic and vulnerable.
A sick child.
~
He closed his eyes and sighed deeply.
The afternoon sun washed over him from the kitchen window, and he sat silently, breathing in the aroma of coffee as the minutes would slowly pass without any break. He was waiting - he knew it, but he would never admit it to himself. The time would pass, and he would patiently wait for the sound of a key turning in the keyhole, wait for the moment when the man he loved would step in to the apartment.
Appreciating the warmth of the sun for warming up his skin as if to somehow make up for the chill in his bones, he slowly opened his eyes, tiredly, and let his eyes lazily wander around the familiar kitchen. He saw the counter, by which he had been watching Reita sometimes try and fail to cook something edible. He gave notice to the coffee maker, over which Reita had slaved when they had sometimes stayed up all night working on music to the utter dislike of people living in the same apartment building. And he sighed when he looked down at the coffee cup he was nursing between his hands. The one that Reita had given him on the Valentine’s day on which they had got together. The cup which said, “I‘ll just pretend that you love me as much as I love you.”
He shivered. How much of their relationship had been pretend when it all came down to it? It could not have been love, it could not, because even though Reita had been there with him, he had not truly been there, in the heart. Not there to hold him all those times when he had wondered if their relationship meant anything, not there to reassure him when he had doubts, not there to love him. It had been agonizing to doubt Reita all the time, to wonder what he thought about when they were silent, to wonder where he was when he was not with him. To wonder who he thought about when they were making love.
Silently letting his thumb run along the edge of the coffee cup, he noticed that he was shaking.
“Oh, fuck it”, he hissed, gripping the coffee cup firmly with his trembling hands and raised it to his lips, sipping the warm liquid carefully. Then he closed his eyes for a moment once again, breathing deeply but not being able to chase away the nervousness that lingered in his mind at the thought of seeing Reita there. He was not comfortable waiting, at all. All the times Reita had made him wait in the past could in no way have prepared enough for this kind of a prolonged agony. And there was no excuse, nothing that would justify the hurt feelings he harboured, for he knew, well enough, that it was his own fault that he was feeling like that, his own fault that Reita no longer was his. If only things would have been different.
If only he would have been different, then perhaps Reita would have loved him back.
Just as he thought that, the phone started ringing - the loud, impatient sound startling him back to existence rudely. Letting out a shaking breath, he then swallowed heavily. While telling himself that it was only the phone, he turned slightly, stiffly in his chair, glancing apprehensively in the direction of the living room, where he knew the phone lay forgotten on the couch. For a couple of seconds, he did nothing, but then he slowly turned back to his coffee cup, and while raising the cup to his lips once again, the answering machine took up the case.
“Hi! You’ve reached Ruki and Reita. We’re not in right now, or we’re unable to answer the phone, so please leave a message and your phone number after the beep, and… we’ll get back to you as soon as we can! Okay? Thanks!”
There was the sound of the two-seconds-long beep, and then, there was silence. Ruki listened intently, but no one made a sound to let know who it was on the other line of the phone. He stared down at the black coffee, his index finger tapping gently against the smooth surface of the cup - now the only sign outwards of his impatient nervousness.
Then, finally, “You really need to change that message, Ru-chan… Ruki.” Reita’s low, calm voice, ever so slightly distorted by the phone, reached Ruki’s ears like a piercing arrow, and his tapping ceased as his grip around the cup tightened while listening to the familiar voice continuing to speak. “It’s not like I live there anymore, if you hadn’t noticed. Delete it whenever you‘ve got the time to, please. Anyway, I’m on my way right now… Just thought I’d tell you. And… the others told me to say hi. Okay. Well, I better hang up now, Kai is mouthing that his cell doesn’t have much money left. So yeah. Okay. See you in a while, then. Bye.”
The click announcing that he had hung up could be heard, and resounded in Ruki’s mind, over and over. And Reita’s words, carried with cruel butterfly wings, gently accompanied the things to brood over, lightly whispering, repeating in his head. Truth was that he was scared. Taking the teaspoon and quietly, absent-mindedly stirring the cooling off coffee, he sighed deeply to try to rid himself the drowning misery, but it seemed that no matter what he did, no matter how much he tried to distract himself, it all but disappeared.
Delete it.
He repeated the words to himself, even opened his mouth slightly, half-heartedly mouthing the words in the silence. How could he delete something like that? It was a memory of their life together, it was a piece of a broken puzzle that he had slowly made undone. It was them. Him and Reita, seemingly so in love with each other. Them.
Delete it whenever you’ve got the time to, please.
And he wished he could say that he would never have the time to, but he knew that he had already had all the time in the world. But he felt as if deleting the message he and Reita had recorded back then, would be like deleting something valuable. Like a part of a last trace belonging to a memory of a day of bliss and shy, promising summer day kisses.
He told himself that they hadn’t even said their goodbyes yet, that the ending lingered in the air, left unfinished. And he told himself, tried to convince himself, that it was an unwanted goodbye by not only him, but Reita, too. Yet when he stood up, stumbling slightly while doing so, to get a fresh cup of coffee, he was left with an empty feeling in his heart, for he knew he was only daydreaming about impossible things.
And then the minutes started to slowly creep by as he sat in silence, sipping coffee, breathing shallowly, and slowly, oh so slowly, slipping back into the haunting memories that were rimmed with forgetfulness - all those signs that he had seen but never acknowledged, witnessed but refused to understand. The time moved by, and Ruki did not move from his kitchen chair, where he sat, waiting for Reita to come back, waiting for it to start to get it over with.
But someone seemed to require a lot of time to decide whether it was time or not, because it took an additional thirty minutes before a faint knock startled Ruki out of this thoughts, a sound soon followed by another as a key was inserted in the keyhole, making it clear that the knock had only been like a warning to say that he was there now.
He was there to say goodbye.
Ruki remained seated, eyes fixed at an invisible spot in midair, as he listened to the person he very well knew was Reita. Heard how he closed the door behind him, heard how he took off his shoes, heard how he walked to the kitchen door and heard how he stopped, standing still for a long moment before he simply did not say a word. Heard how he avoided him. Or perhaps he was being unfair, perhaps he was the one avoiding Reita, because he did not trust his legs to carry him enough to walk out and greet him, didn’t trust his voice to last. Perhaps he was the source of the glitch between them that had been the cause of Reita’s cold love. Because only to be in Reita’s presence made him weak, and it had not changed one bit since the end of their unstable relationship.
He felt sick, as he sat there, listening as the one he cared so much about was walking around in the apartment, trying to find the things that were the most necessary for living. Blinking slowly, he let his gaze fall down upon the cup again, watching absent-mindedly as he started to twist and turn the cup between his hands. He wanted to turn around in his chair and look out into the living room, he wanted to say something, he wanted to touch him, but he could do absolutely nothing, as if trapped in his own fear of what might happen.
Or how Reita would react.
So he waited, once again, this time for Reita to do something, just a little something to acknowledge his presence or to greet him. To show him that he was not invisible to this man, because Ruki felt as if he was, felt as if unimportant was his new first name. It had been so before, it was so then, and it would always be humiliating for him to constantly be the one to hope for a change, was so wrong of him to do so. But he couldn’t stop hoping, wouldn’t stop.
And after what seemed like seven eternities lined up neatly next to each other to make Ruki fade away to a wreck, the apartment fell completely silent. He blinked slowly, numbly, and then heaved a sigh, anticipating what was to come.
But he was surprised as he saw, in the corner of his eye, how Reita, his beautiful, perfect Reita walked hesitantly into the kitchen and, after standing for a moment, sat down quietly in the chair opposite of him. Ruki hesitantly looked up, and their eyes met immediately, drawn to each other in a way that he used to think was so meaningful, so right. But that now only made him afraid, and that was so strange, because he realised how much this beautiful presence frightened him, how he had became so cautious around him.
He felt like crying, and that made him feel ashamed, so very, very ashamed, but it hurt to look at him, it hurt so much. He felt like a little boy opening his eyes for the first time to the most beautiful view in the world, and he never wanted to look away, wanted to forever linger in that moment. Because the sun was unmercifully playing in Reita’s blonde hair, creating a cruelly breathtaking sight that he wanted to gaze upon forever.
But reality was even more painful.
Because after a moment of silence, a small envelope was placed in front of Ruki. A simple, white envelope. And Reita left. Without a single word, he left.
It didn’t matter, he told himself. It did not matter that Reita hated him so much. And so he refused to let any thoughts invade his mind as he, with hands trembling so much it almost became an impossible task, opened the envelope and, after taking a deep breath, looked inside.
A key.
His key. The spare key he had given Reita. The key to what for a while had been their apartment. He stared intently at it, as if trying to will it to disappear, to become only a fragment of his imagination. But it didn’t go away. It stood out, heartless metallic grey against pale, cream white. Taking a shaking breath, he let it slip down on the table, and that was when he noticed it.
A small piece of paper in the envelope that he immediately fought to get out with shaking hands. He almost didn’t dare to read, almost wanted to throw it all in the trash to never know, because nothing whatsoever told him that it was going anywhere else than down, down, down.
But he read the one single word written with black ink glaring up at him from the cream white paper. He stared. Did not want to believe what was obviously so real. And everything around him went spinning, his desperate tears could not be held back, the everything, the existence, the world, the moment, the… It all fell. It all came down to that one, written word.
‘Goodbye.’
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